


My Motivation

by SoftVergil



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Family Feels, Parent Vergil (Devil May Cry), Soft Vergil (Devil May Cry), Vergil is motivated to protect Nero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftVergil/pseuds/SoftVergil
Summary: In a world where Vergil knew about Nero's birth, what would have changed?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	My Motivation

“That day, if our positions were switched, would I have your life, and you mine?” 

The swirling clouds that darkened the sky overhead had let out a slow drizzle hours ago, one that had slowly picked up in intensity as the day had passed. The water filled the streets and the sidewalks, the sound of it hitting pavement and buildings resonated all around and permeated every place that the two figures had thought to move. The man walked in front, his legs burning, his whole body ached in fact. The sound of his footsteps smacking against wet pavement had grown to be repetitive over the past handful of hours, an annoyance. What he would have given for silence at that moment, just for a moment to think. To concentrate on the matter at hand. 

He stole a glance backwards at the woman that trailed close behind him. She had the hood of her own coat pulled up similarly to him, a few stray locks of blonde hair falling out of it as she moved to keep up with him. Despite the lack of complaints from her, he could see the exhaustion written clearly across her face. Her eyes were dim, her breath shallow, and she seemed to make a grimace of pain with every step forward that they took. His eyes then swept down, to the bundle that she held close to her chest. The swaddling clothes that they had wrapped him in were pulled over his face in a futile effort to protect him from the rain, they were clearly being soaked through by this point. 

If they were to keep going like this, the man thought to himself, then his son was going to be chilled to the bone and sickly before they could even arrive at the mansion. In his head, he weighed the options of either stopping for a few moments to allow the woman to warm both herself and the child that she held close. In the end, he decided that a few moments would make little difference. 

“This way,” The man whispered and reached behind to grab the hand of his wife, pulling her into a small alleyway that had an overhang. It was not much, but it would provide them shelter from the rain, at the very least. The lingering scent of refuse reached his nose as the man stood under that overhang for a moment, clouding his ability to think for a moment as his thumb twitched over the guard of the sword on his waist. That, and the fact that he could not begin to remember the last time that he had slept. It had to have been before his son was born, but how long ago? All the days were blurring together into a mess of moving forward, exhaustion, and constantly looking over his shoulder. 

“Vergil,” the sound of her voice broke him from the trance that had settled over his mind for just a brief moment, and he glanced over to find her sitting down against the building, her breathing heavier as she cradled their son. Vergil dropped to a knee next to her, reached to gently put a hand on her arm as he listened, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” her voice was strained, only just now seeming to show just how much this constant running was getting to her. It sounded as though she was on the verge of tears, barely containing them through exhaustion. 

He debated on what to say. He had struggled somewhat with this ever since he had met her. Despite all of the poetry that he had read in his youth, all of the things he had learned about love and how to bring people to his side with speech, Vergil had never been able to bring his tongue to do the same when it came to her. All he knew is that he couldn’t let her give up now. 

“We’re not far,” he assured her with a gentle squeeze of her arm, allowing the faintest of smiles to paint his own tired features. Vergil set the Yamato down against the wall of the building, next to his family, and used his now free hand to rest on Nero’s bundled form. “Just a couple more days, and we can rest, we’ll be safe.” What Vergil would have given to just use the Yamato to cut a hole straight to his old home, but that place was protected by some strange barrier now. Even worse, the exhaustion of fighting off the demonic hordes that had been sent after him and his soon had exhausted the half-demon to the point where he wasn’t even willing to risk bringing his family through one of the rifts. Furthermore, he did not have the slightest clue how it might affect Bianca or Nero, and he was not about to risk either of them. 

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, before both of their gazes fell to the bundle in Bianca’s arms. She had brushed the clothes back away from his face to reveal their son, sleeping soundly despite the rain and the constant movement. Vergil could only imagine how tired the boy must be, for his first few days of life he had known nothing but constant movement. Movement always forward, away from the things on their heels. 

Those things, the demons that had been dispatched by who Vergil could only assume to be Mundus. The Prince of the Underworld did tend to strike when they were at their most vulnerable. The house in Red Grave City was an image that was burned into Vergil’s mind forever as a reminder of that fact. When his father had been gone, Mundus had taken the opportunity to strike. Now, it seemed Mundus intended to strike at his son when he too was at his most vulnerable. Almost as if on cue to his thoughts, Vergil felt a familiar sense and the air shifted around him. He bit back a curse as he slowly stood and grabbed the Yamato. 

“We have to go,” He informed his wife, bringing a hand down to help her up. She looked at it for a moment, and then shook her head, before her eyes met his again. 

“I can’t,” she whispered, her eyes slowly brimming with tears as Vergil heard the approaching demonic hordes. “Vergil, take Nero, please.” She demanded as she saw him turn away to face the coming threat, his thumb popping the Yamato just barely free of its sheath. “Just take him and get out of here, I can’t slow you down anymore.” Vergil glanced back over his shoulder at her and shook his head. 

The image of the burning house, the feelings that had welled up inside of him when he’d walked away from it, and the loneliness that he had felt after all of those years pushed to the forefront of Vergil’s mind. That, combined with all of the nights that he had spent with the woman in front of him, and especially the memory of the day she had told him about Nero. Had this been anyone else, Vergil would have complied, but not with her.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” he whispered as the first demon came around the corner and into the alley. He rushed forward, slashing the demon away from his wife and son. It caught the few that had been right behind it and sent them all flying backwards and across the street. Summoned swords followed to pin them to the walls that they had crashed into as Vergil turned to face the rest that had been dispatched.

As he had always did, Vergil moved like a storm of blades more than a man, the Yamato severing demon’s limb from limb. His movements felt slower, though, as though he was moving through water. What little rest had been afforded to his family had been lost on the half-demon, spending every moment alert, and it was finally starting to take its toll on him. He could feel the slashes of the Yamato growing less and less focused, the human half of his body catching up with him and demanding even the slightest rest. He cursed when he felt the blade of one of the hell caina tear through the azure fabric of his coat. He lashed back out, but his strike was unprecise. It knocked the demon away, but pushed Vergil back at the same time, closer to the crowd of other demons that had been assembling around him, seemingly ignoring both Bianca and Nero for the time being. 

Good, he thought to himself. If I can keep them distracted then at least they’ll be safe. Even if they overwhelm me, they’ll be too focused on me to do anything to Nero and her. Maybe they’ll be able to slip away.   
That is, until Nero began to cry. Vergil’s eyes widened and he turned towards his son, terrified at the thought that he had been hurt. At the same time, all the demons followed the sound, turning to face what must have looked like a much less threatening target. Time slowed down in Vergil’s mind as he rushed forward, propelling himself with all his power to create a barrier between his family and the demons. He slashed the first few away, but the others piled onto him, their blades piercing his body in multiple places. The pain roared through Vergil’s senses like a wildfire as he still fought them backwards. 

He could not let them touch his family. He could not let the same thing happen to them that Sparda had allowed to happen all those years ago. As he pushed the wave away, using the Yamato as well as he could to bat the oncoming horde away from his family, Vergil could feel the emotions of that day swirling in him like the storm clouds overhead. With a step forward, he felt everything rise in him, the pain dulling near-instantly, replaced by an indescribable feeling. A feeling of pure power. 

Vergil did not feel the change of his body, but when he stepped forward and did not feel the exhaustion of the last few days, nor the pain that had been riddling his body only moments before, he knew it had happened. Something within him had awakened, something that had lain dormant since the day that he had been cornered in the cemetery outside of his childhood home. A power that had been suppressed by all the emotions of that day, let loose by a singular need.

The next few moments were a blur even in the mind’s eye of the son of Sparda. He felt as though he and the Yamato were moving as one, through the crowd of demons, around their blades, through their bodies. They fell with screeches of pain as the devil tore through them without a moment’s hesitation, driven forward to keep the horde from advancing any further. Soon, their numbers had dwindled to a handful, and those ones left were quickly cut down by this new form that Vergil had assumed. His eyes swept over the street once, twice, and then return to where Bianca and Nero sat, huddled against the building. 

Her eyes were full of fear. Vergil could see that clearly, the horrified expression that had painted her face the first time that a demon had come for him alone was mimicked now when she looked upon him. When he saw this, Vergil felt that change revert, accompanied by a rush of pain that caused him to fall to his knees, only kept from falling to the ground entirely by jamming the Yamato into the pavement. His breath came in ragged pants, his grip weak on his blade for a moment. He touched one of his wounds, pulled his hand away to find blood there. He stood as fast as his injured body would allow. His wounds would heal faster than a normal human’s, however, should another group of demons come upon them then he would not be able to fight them off again. 

He stumbled towards Bianca, stood over her and extended his hand to her, still barely able to stand on his own two legs. Vergil felt a pang of pain that permeated deeper than his skin when the offer of his hand was only met by a stare of betrayal. If he were to be honest with himself, he supposed that he could not blame her entirely. He had done his best to keep his true nature a secret from her, knowing the way the people of Fortuna feverishly worshiped his father. 

“We have to keep moving,” Vergil insisted, trying quickly to get her off the revelation of what she had seen. “I’ll explain everything when we get to the house, but if they send more after us now, I won’t be able to fight them off. Please, Bianca, we have to go.” At the realization that he would not be able to protect her or Nero in his current state, Bianca relented, taking Vergil’s hand, and moving to her feet. He pushed the Yamato back into its sheath and adjusted his coat as she wrapped Nero in his swaddling clothes again. The rain had lessened, but not stopped entirely. 

“You’ll explain everything when we make it there?” Bianca questioned him, as though not entirely sure of his truthfulness at that moment. Vergil glanced back at her, before turning to face her entirely. He reached out, intertwined their fingers, and nodded. 

“Everything.”


End file.
